


Serve and Protect

by MaggieDerrick



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Gangs, Illustrated, Illustrated Fic, Street Gang, catradora
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieDerrick/pseuds/MaggieDerrick
Summary: Adora and her best friend Catra have been working for the notorious Horde gang for as long as they can remember. Picking pockets for a living may not be a great way to grow up, but it's better than living on the streets without protection. But when she's promoted to Force Captain and becomes a full-fledged member of the gang, Adora realizes the Horde is far worse than she ever could have imagined.If she wants to escape this dangerous world of crime, Adora will need to work with a group of vigilantes to bring down the Horde and expose the corruption within Etheria's police force. But when Catra chooses to stay with the gang, Adora must figure out if she can serve the greater good while protecting the people she loves, or risk losing it all.Story by: Henar Torinos and Iria Abella (@ilikeyoucatradora on IG)Illustrations by: Henar TorinosWritten by: Maggie DerrickAUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS STORY CONTAINS MATURE SUBJECT MATTER. Please read the content warnings for each chapter before reading.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 180





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS STORY CONTAINS MATURE SUBJECT MATTER. Please read the content warnings for each chapter before reading.

Adora and Catra stood outside the west entrance of the public market and went over the rules one more time.

“You know the drill,” Adora said, watching as the busy Saturday crowd milled around them like a school of fish. “We have half an hour to get from one side of the market to the other. Whoever has the most money when we finish wins.”

“And whoever loses buys burgers,” Catra added. She laced her fingers and pushed her palms forward, popping her knuckles with a satisfying crackle. “There’s a good crowd today, plenty of bougie tourists.”

Adora nodded. “Yup. Should make for a good haul.”

Catra snorted a laugh and prodded one of her sharp, dark-painted fingernails into Adora’s ribs. “Whatever. I’m still gonna kick your ass.”

Swatting Catra’s hand, Adora wriggled out of poking range. “We’ll see. You ready?”

“Always.”

They lifted their eyes in unison to the old iron clock that stood in the center of the market district’s courtyard. The hands read 10:52.

“Perfect,” Adora said. “We’ll be finished just in time for you to buy me lunch.”

Catra rolled her eyes. “Whatever. See you on the other side, princess.”

Together, they pushed through the doors and immediately split up. Flashing Catra a parting grin, Adora took the left side of the wide, bustling building. Back when the city was young, the public market was a humble place for farmers, bakers, butchers, and fishers to sell their products — a grocery store long before grocery stores were a thing. These days, those stalls were still there—the best place to buy fresh fish and cheese and produce without having to travel outside of the city limits—but they were crammed alongside stands selling artisan goods at exorbitant prices. What was once a rough and gritty part of town had since been transformed into a trendy tourist destination. Visitors from around the world browsed the public market stalls alongside well-off locals who liked pretending to be “of the people” on weekends.

Adora and Catra belonged to neither of those social groups. In fact, having lived most of their lives on the streets, they didn’t have much business being there at all. But the type of people who shopped at the public market did so with plenty of money in their pockets, and that made it the friends’ favorite place to make some cash of their own.

As she moved through the crowded floor, Adora would occasionally catch sight of Catra prowling along her side of the building. A flash of her long, dark hair, the glint of her mismatched eyes — Catra’s strength in this game was her speed. Adora on the other hand, preferred to be strategic when choosing her prey. When it came to pilfering wallets, she was after quality, not quantity.

Not that she could blame Catra for wanting to make quick work of the job at hand. Being white, Adora blended in, even with her dirty face and clothes. She could afford to take her time. Catra on the other hand, with her warm brown skin, was a magnet for police attention, especially in a place like this. This was just one more injustice in the long, unfair story of Catra’s life. It was safer for her to get in and out as fast as possible.

But Adora had another reason for being slow and steady with her process. After all, with speed came mistakes, and she couldn’t afford to make those anymore. She had turned eighteen earlier that year, which meant getting caught with her hand in a stranger’s purse wouldn’t just mean a trip to the police station and a firm reprimand from Captain Angella: it would mean criminal charges in adult court. Just thinking about it made Adora shudder.

So, she chose her marks thoughtfully. She sought out the distracted crowds of tourists crammed around high-end artisan jewelry stalls and well-dressed older couples shopping for truffle oil. She’d watch for people with too much money and not enough common sense to flash their overstuffed wallets, then follow them from one stall to another until the right opportunity presented itself. After years of picking pockets, her sleight of hand skills were unmatched. She would swoop in like a shadow, unburdening those same shoppers from their cash and disappear into the swarms of people before anyone even realized she’d been there.

Adora found herself at the east doors with a couple minutes to spare. Still, when she glanced around, she found Catra already leaning against the wall waiting for her.

“Took you long enough,” Catra said with a laugh. Adora made a face at her and pushed through the doors into the late-morning sunshine. They kept their gait casual and unassuming — they knew better than to draw attention to themselves. Only after they turned a corner around one of the many low studio buildings that made up the market district did they break into a sprint.

Adora laughed, pumping her arms and breathing hard as she raced Catra to a small park a couple streets over. As they closed in on the park’s entrance, Adora leapt forward and slapped the outstretched paw of one of the twin stone lions that stood guard on either side of the path.

“I win!” she crowed, thrusting her fists into the air victoriously.

“Only because I was weighed down by my massive score,” Catra said, hitching a thumb over her shoulder at her backpack. Adora snorted a laugh and gave Catra a playful shove. They giggled, walking side by side to their favorite tree. It was set back from the path, far from the benches and playground, making it the ideal place to count their winnings away from other people. Adora pulled her own backpack off her shoulders and tossed it into the grass. She dropped down beside it with a _whump_.

“Got you a present,” Catra said, digging through her bag. She pulled out something wrapped in a paper napkin and tossed it into Adora’s lap. Adora peeled back the napkin to find one of her favorite cookies: thick shortbread slathered in sugary icing and stuffed with fresh jam.

“You spoil me,” Adora teased as Catra flopped down beside her. She took a huge bite and groaned appreciatively.

Catra grinned at her. “You’re such an idiot. Come on — show me what you got.”

They emptied their bags of their spoils and started counting. As expected, Catra had collected more wallets than Adora. But when they were finished counting the cash inside, Adora had beat Catra by a long shot.

“Oh, come on!” Catra slumped back against the tree trunk, crossing her arms with a frown. “I scored, like, five more wallets than you!”

“That’s because you always pick shitty marks,” Adora replied, gathering her earnings into a neat stack and shoving the wad of cash into her front pocket. “Now, I believe you owe me lunch.”

Grumbling, Catra crammed her earnings into her sock. Together they wiped the wallets down, removing their fingerprints before dumping them down a storm drain for good measure.

The sun was setting by the time the pair made their way home that evening. Of course, “home” was a generous way to describe the old warehouse where Adora, Catra, and the rest of the gang spent their nights, but it was all they had. Once upon a time the building housed a shoe factory, but when the company folded the building didn’t sell. It stood vacant for decades until the Horde found it and turned it into a barracks of sorts for its younger members.

Catra rapped a complicated pattern of knocks onto one of the rusted steel doors. A moment later, the door opened a sliver — just wide enough for whomever was on the other side to peer out and confirm who was requesting access.

“It’s us, Kyle,” Catra grumbled, banging the meaty side of her fist against the door hard enough to make the young man on the other side yelp with surprise. “Open up!”

The old door groaned noisily as Kyle—a fellow youth member of the street gang known as the Horde—hauled it open. Adora and Catra slid inside. Now that the work day was over, most of the kids were clustered on the mismatched and threadbare sofas and chairs that made up the common space in the middle of the warehouse floor. Their jokes and laughter echoed throughout the vast space, drifting up like ghosts among the exposed steel beams and out into the night through grimy, cracked windows. Someone had already lit a bonfire in the old oil drum in the middle, and it cast long shadows across the room.

“I can’t wait to get off my feet,” Catra said, eyeing an empty armchair by the fire.

“Not so fast.”

A velvety voice drifted from the darkness, making both girls jump with. Adora pressed a hand to her racing heart and mentally chastised herself. Even after all these years, she still hadn’t gotten used to the way Shadow Weaver seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

Dark hair, scarred face, sallow eyes — Shadow Weaver emerged from the gloom like a monster in a nightmare. But, even though she certainly earned that kind of reputation, she was the closest thing to a mother Adora and the rest of the Horde kids had. Adora and Catra stood at attention, as was expected of them. Shadow Weaver unfurled her long, thin fingers toward them without speaking. The girls knew what to do: they riffled through their clothes, pulled out the wads of cash they’d stolen earlier that day, and handed it all over. They stood quietly as Shadow Weaver counted their score.

“ _Tch_ ,” she hissed through her teeth. “This is a pathetic sum, even for you, Catra.”

Catra flinched back and cast her gaze toward the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, Adora saw her friend bite her lip in an attempt to stop herself from saying something she’d regret. So, Adora cleared her throat instead.

“It was just an unlucky day,” she said with a false brightness. “Catra actually hit way more marks than I did, they just—”

“Do not make excuses for her, Adora.” Shadow Weaver cut her off. “If she didn’t want to be a disappointment, she would simply try harder. Isn’t that right, Catra?”

Scowling, Catra rubbed at the scars on her forearm absently. “Yes, Shadow Weaver.”

Shadow Weaver waved her hand, dismissively. “You are excused, Catra. Adora, walk with me.”

Adora looked to Catra, who shrugged before turning on her heel and stalking toward the fire.

“Leave her to sulk,” Shadow Weaver said. She held a hand out and motioned for Adora to join her. “We have something to discuss.”

Falling into step at Shadow Weaver’s side, Adora followed her across the floor and up the stairs to what had once been offices. These rooms now served as sleeping quarters for the younger Horde members, and were the only place where a person could find a modicum of privacy in the entire building.

“I think it may be time to put some distance between yourself and Catra,” Shadow Weaver said, gazing out over the railings and down at her young charges. “I’m worried she will hold you back from your full potential.”

“What?” Adora was taken aback. She knew Shadow Weaver wasn’t Catra’s biggest fan, but this was an extreme reaction to a poor day’s earnings. Suddenly she regretted making Catra buy them lunch with some of the money she’d stolen. “She just had a bad day. Besides, she’s my best friend! I’m not going to—”

“Adora, you are the brightest recruit the Horde has ever seen,” Shadow Weaver spoke over her. “You have a promising future within our ranks — I can see you rising quickly.”

Adora blinked. “Really?”

“Yes.” Shadow Weaver turned to face her at last. She laid her palms against Adora’s cheeks and cradled her face with something that almost felt like tenderness. “But to do that, you must remain focused. You can’t afford to become complacent, especially now that you’re eighteen.”

“I won’t, Shadow Weaver,” Adora said. A hopeful sense of pride bubbled up inside of her. “I’m still just as committed to the Horde as I’ve always been, I promise. I won’t let you down.”

For a few long moments, Shadow Weaver didn’t say anything. She regarded Adora with intensity, searching her blue eyes for something only she could see. Adora didn’t dare blink, let alone look away. She swallowed hard and returned her mentor’s stare without flinching.

At last, Shadow Weaver sighed. “Of course you won’t. Which is why I think you’re ready.”

She released Adora’s face and breezed away, leaving Adora to scramble after her.

“Really?” Adora breathed. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you serious?”

Shadow Weaver glanced back over her shoulder. The flickering firelight below caught on her eyes, making them glow in the dimness.

“Very serious. It’s time to earn your promotion, Adora.”


	2. Chapter 2

_[ **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This chapter contains mature subject matter, including depictions of blood and violence. Please see the specific content warnings at the end of that chapter]_

“Holy shit!” Catra cried. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Shh!” Adora hissed, pressing a finger to her lips. “Keep your voice down!”

“Uh, you just told me you’re being promoted, and you expect me _not_ to make a big deal about it? C’mon, Adora — it’s like you don’t know me at all.” Without warning, Catra leapt at her. Had Adora not been anticipating such a reaction, it would have sent them both crashing backwards. Instead, she caught Catra in her arms and laughed.

“I know you well enough to know you were going to jump me, so that’s got to count for something.” She whirled Catra around before setting her back on her feet. “Anyway, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I haven’t been promoted yet — I still have to earn it.”

Catra rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You and I both know you’re Shadow Weaver’s golden girl. There’s no way she is not going to give it to you.” Grinning, she grabbed Adora’s hand. “Which is why I have a surprise for you. C’mon!”

She pulled Adora toward the staircase, and together they climbed it up onto the roof. Technically they weren’t supposed to be up there, but that had never stopped them before. Years earlier, Adora picked the lock to give Catra a place to hide after a particularly violent beating at Shadow Weaver’s hand. Since then, the roof had become their secret place — the only spot in the entire building where they could be perfectly alone and escape their bleak lives, even if just for a little while.

Night had fully settled over the city now. The starless sky was heavy with gloom that reflected a neon glow from the lights below. Adora always found it beautiful in a strange way, though to be fair, she had no point of reference. This was the only view she’d ever really known. She followed Catra to the corner where they liked to sit — it had a decent view of the harbor, and they liked to watch the ships glide across the water on their way to port.

“I don’t mean to be a killjoy,” Adora said, grinning, “but I’ve been up here before. Kind of a shitty surprise.”

“Just sit down, dummy,” Catra replied.

Adora did as she was told. She watched in obedient silence as Catra rifled through the inner pocket of her old baseball jacket–the one she’d been wearing since she was a kid–and pulled out a small box, thin and square.

“This is for you,” Catra said, handing it to Adora.

Blinking, Adora tried to play down her surprise. “Two presents in one day? What’s gotten into you?”

“Stop being a dork and just open it.”

Again, Adora did as Catra demanded. Carefully, she pulled the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful golden bracelet.

“Catra,” she gasped. “This is—”

“The bracelet you liked from that jewelry store on 6th avenue, yeah.”

“How did you manage to steal this?” Adora was agog. “The security at that place is intense!”

“I didn’t steal it!” Catra balked. “I bought it. I even got it engraved, see?” She pointed to the flat gold panel at the middle of the bracelet, the one held on either end by short lengths of chain. Adora lifted the bracelet and squinted in the dim light. The inscription read simply, _Hey, Adora._

“Catra, this is amazing,” Adora said, wiping away the tears that pooled at the corners of her eyes. She had never received a gift like this before — she had never owned anything so extravagant, let alone something that hadn’t been stolen first. The fact that Catra had bought it for her made it even more special. “But I don’t understand. How did you pay for this? It was so expensive!”

Shifting awkwardly, Catra rubbed at the back of her neck. “Let’s just say there’s a reason my scores have been a bit lower than usual for the last few months. I knew you’d be getting promoted eventually, so I started saving the day you went all heart-eyes when you spotted this thing in the store window.”

Adora’s eyes grew wide. “You’ve been skimming? Catra, if Shadow Weaver finds out—”

“She won’t. Just don’t let her see it,” Catra said, laying a hand on Adora’s shoulder. She gave her a toothy, reassuring smile. “Besides, it’s not every day your best friend gets a major promotion. You’ve been busting your ass for years, Adora — I thought you deserved something nice.” She gestured vaguely. “Y’know, to celebrate or whatever.”

Sniffling, Adora wrapped her friend in a tight and unrelenting hug. “You’re the best, Catra.”

Catra huffed a laugh. “Oh, I know. Here, let me help you put it on.” 

Adora held her wrist out while Catra unlatched the bracelet’s clasp. The feeling of Catra’s fingertips brushing against her skin made Adora bite her lip to hide her smile.

“There,” Catra said, sitting back when her work was done. “What do you think?”

“I love it,” Adora replied, turning her hand to admire her treasure. “Thank you so much, Catra.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, now.” Catra jumped to her feet and reached back for Adora. “You still have a job to do, remember? Now go earn that promotion or I’m returning that thing first thing tomorrow.”

With a snort of laughter, Adora took Catra’s hand and let her haul her to her feet. They darted back across the roof to the staircase door, their hands still firmly clasped together.

“Any idea what you have to do tonight?” Catra whispered as they crept back down the stairs.

“Nope,” Adora replied, a thrill racing through her at the thought of her mystery mission. “All I know is I’ve gotta meet one of the squadrons down at the docks in an hour.”

They slid back out onto the ground floor and eased the staircase door closed behind them. Catra rounded on Adora, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m so jealous. I wish I could go with you.”

“Don’t worry,” Adora grinned. “I’ll tell you all about it when you get back.”

They hurried to the main doors and didn’t bother to wake Kyle, who was curled on a dilapidated armchair and dozing through the rest of his sentry duty. Adora cracked the door just enough to slip outside. She looked back at Catra and flashed her a thumbs-up, her new bracelet rattling on her wrist.

“Good luck, dummy,” Catra said, winking.

Adora winked back. “That’s soon-to-be Force Captain Dummy to you!” she replied, then took off into the night. 

*

The air was cooler down by the water, and Adora couldn’t help but shiver as she made her way to the old storehouse where she’d been told to meet the other Horde squad. A fog was drifting in off the harbor, casting an eerie haze over the few street lights that actually worked in this district. Adora ran her fingers over her bracelet as she cut her way down an alley — the weight of it on her wrist helped soothe her nerves.

Up ahead, a figure leaned against one of the squat storage buildings, silhouetted in the dark and smoking a pungent cigarette.

“Nice night for a swim,” Adora said firmly, speaking the code that would grant her passage.

The figure flicked their cigarette to the ground and snuffed it out under the toe of their boot. “If you insist,” they replied, their voice low and gravelly.

They turned and opened the door they’d been slouching in front of. The yellow light from inside illuminated the gangster’s face — it was Grizzlor, a high-ranking Commander in the Horde gang. Adora’s stomach twisted: she was running with the big kids now. Wordlessly, Grizzlor tipped his head toward the threshold and Adora took her cue to enter.

The inside the storehouse was sparse. Only a chair sat in the middle of the room beneath a buzzing bare bulb. On the walls hung an assortment of heavy metal tools. The windows were boarded up tight.

“Well, well. Look who’s finally earning her stripes,” came a voice from the shadows. Adora glanced to the corner of the room, where she found the rest of the squadron lurking. Force Captain Octavia stepped forward, a sneer playing at her lips. Her one good eye glared, the other was covered by a thick leather eye patch. “It’s about damn time.”

Adora let the comment slide and answered instead with a nod. Octavia had been promoted a few years earlier, but only because she was older. She’d been a constant source of torment to Adora and Catra growing up, but Adora knew better than to let that resentment cloud her judgement tonight.

“So, what’s the plan?” Adora asked, staring Octavia down with an unflinching gaze.

Octavia crossed her arms and looked Adora over. “We’re bringing one of our contacts in for a little chat.” From the corner, the rest of the squad snickered darkly. “It seems he’s done some damage to one of the Horde’s boats while he was ferrying some product.”

“What kind of damage?” Adora asked.

“That’s none of your business, _Cadet_ ,” Octavia snapped.

“None of that, Force Captain,” Grizzlor said, stepping between them. “Adora’s here because Hordak thinks she’s ready.”

Scoffing, Octavia relented. “Fine. The jackass set the boat on fire. Our job is to figure out if the pyrotechnics were intentional or not. And, y’know, to make sure it never happens again.” She cracked her knuckles to punctuate her point.

Adora’s skin prickled at the insinuation. She swallowed hard but kept her expression unphased. “So, what do you need me to do?”

“When the contact arrives, we’re going to need you to stand guard at the door,” Octavia replied. “Just to make sure no one interrupts our conversation. Understood?”

_That’s it?_ Adora thought. _Guard duty?_ She was confused — this assignment hardly felt like a worthy test of her mettle. But it wasn’t her job to question orders, so she nodded once more. “Got it.”

As if on cue, the door flew open with a bang. Adora whirled around to see two hulking Horde members dragging a bound and hooded figure between them. The prisoner struggled, but it was no use — whoever was under that hood was completely overpowered.

Ice trickled through Adora’s veins as she watched the gangsters throw the figure down into the waiting chair. They tied him firmly in place before finally removing the hood, revealing a head of mussed brown hair. The person slumped forward, their face obscured. Octavia reached forward, gripped the hair with her fingers, and used it to pull their head back.

Only then did Adora recognize him as Seahawk, a local boat captain the Horde had somehow gotten onto their payroll. She had never worked with him personally, but she’d seen his face around. He was usually a boisterous man, with a slick mustache and weeks worth of stories to tell. But now his mirth was gone. His dark, frightened eyes darted around the room. A filthy rag had been crammed in his mouth as a gag. Adora looked down at her feet just so she wouldn’t have to look at his terrified face any longer.

A heavy hand settled on Adora’s shoulder, making her jump. She looked up to find Grizzlor looking down at her. He hitched a thumb toward the door, and she hurried to take her post.

“Now remember: nobody else has business here tonight,” he said once Adora was outside. His wide shoulders filled the doorframe. “If anyone tries to get in, we expect you to take care of them. You stay here until I come for you, go it?”

“Yes, sir.” Adora replied, saluting her superior officer the way she’d been taught.

Grunting, Grizzlor slammed the door shut. Adora heard a deadbolt slide into place, and only then did she panic.

_Oh fuck_ , she thought. _Are they gonna torture that guy? Kill him?_

Adora had spent her entire life in the Horde, and she’d been put to work young. But while she’d long since come to terms with the fact that their organization wasn’t working for the greater good, this was the first time she’d ever seen anything like this. Up until now, her work had involved mostly petty crimes: pick-pocketing, breaking and entering, thievery fit for a common criminal. At worst, she’d been assigned to deliver drugs or pick up payments. At best, she’d been a simple messenger. Sure, she’d been taught to fight—they all had—but she’d always assumed that was just for her safety. After all, there had been more than a few occasions where she’d been forced to use her fists to get out of trouble.

But this was something different altogether. The voices from inside were muffled, but Adora could still hear the sickening sound of impact. She knew what flesh sounded like when it was struck — she’d lived that nightmare first hand more times than she could count. She could even hear Seahawk’s desperate sobs and howls of pain, and the sounds made her stomach turn.

It was impossible to tell how long she stood out there, guarding a door in that deserted alleyway. At some point, a fine drizzle started to fall, and Adora shivered as her clothes grew damp. The tortured wailing droned on until at last Adora grew numb to it. All the while, she stood at her post, fidgeting with her bracelet for company.

When the door finally opened, Adora was soaked through. She peered up, her eyes straining against the light after so much time in the dark.

“C’mon in,” Octavia said, standing aside to make room.

Warily, Adora shuffled inside. Under the light, Grizzlor stood with his back to her, blocking her view of Seahawk. The sailor had been quiet for a while now.

“She’s ready for you,” Octavia told him, motioning toward Adora.

Grizzlor looked over his shoulder with a sharp glare. Then he waved for Adora to join him. “Over here, Cadet.”

Her stomach dropped.

She inched forward and Seahawk came into view. He was a ghost of his former self — his handsome face was battered and bruised, swollen nearly beyond recognition. There was so much blood that Adora couldn’t even tell where it was coming from. Watery trails streaked down his cheeks from where tears had washed some of the crimson mess away.

“Time to earn your big promotion, Cadet,” Octavia said with a laugh.

Adora trembled. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t think you were going to become a Force Captain by watching a door all night, did you?”

_Of course not_ , Adora thought grimly.

Grizzlor turned to her, a bloody metal pipe clenched in his fist. He held it out to Adora. “We saved the last strike for you, Cadet. Make it count.”

“I…” Adora stared down at the pipe. She felt lightheaded. “You want me to—”

“Hit him, yes,” Octavia cut in, sounding bored. “And you’ve gotta mean in — there’s no room for cowards in the Horde.”

Slowly, as if being directed by some invisible hand, Adora took the pipe. It was heavier than it looked, and that made what she had to do so much worse. She twisted her hands around the clean end and took a deep, shaky breath. Without thinking, she lifted her eyes, and her gaze locked with what little of Seahawk’s eyes were still visible through the swelling. The meager contents of Adora’s stomach rolled as Seahawk shook his head, quick, jerking movements that pleaded for mercy.

Again, Grizzlor’s hands closed over Adora’s shoulders.

“Hordak is expecting us to report back on your performance tonight, Cadet,” he said. “Do not disappoint him,” His grip tightened, and Adora knew it was meant as a threat.

So she swallowed the bile rising in her throat, and she lifted the pipe over her shoulder like a baseball bat.

“Please…” Seahawk whimpered, sending fresh blood spilling over her split lip.

_I’m so sorry_ , Adora thought.

She brought the pipe down with every ounce of strength she could muster. The sick sound of metal splitting flesh and hitting bone filled her ears like a scream. Warm blood splattered with the force of the swing and sprayed across Adora’s face. She froze, horrified.

Octavia’s laughter boomed throughout the room. Seahawk’s head fell forward, his chin against his chest.

“Oh my God,” Adora breathed, swaying dangerously. She was vaguely aware of someone sliding the pipe from her hands. A hand pressed into her back and steered her toward the door and back outside. The cold damp air was like a slap to her face, bringing her back to her senses.

Adora whirled around. Grizzlor gazed down at her, impassive.

“Is— is he dead?” she asked, her voice a frantic whisper that still managed to echo through the deserted alley. “Did I kill him?”

By way of answer, Grizzlor took Adora’s hand and pressed something small and hard into her palm.

“Bring this to the Witch,” he said gruffly, referring to Shadow Weaver by her crude code name. “Good work tonight. I’ll see you in the streets, Force Captain.”

Adora gaped after him as he retreated back into the storehouse and slammed the door behind him. Alone again, Adora lifted her hand and cautiously opened her fingers.

A fresh wave of nausea nearly brought her to her knees.

There, in the middle of Adora’s quivering palm, sat a single, bloody tooth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings:  
> \- Seahawk is bound to a chair and beaten; off-page  
> \- Adora sees Seahawk after he's received a severe beating; on-page, blood  
> \- Adora is forced to hit Seahawk with a lead pipe; on-page, blood  
> \- Adora is given a bloody tooth to prove she passed her initiation; on-page, blood


	3. Chapter 3

_[ **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This chapter contains mature subject matter, including blood, physical abuse/torture. Please see the bottom of the chapter for specific content warnings.]_

Adora kept her stride calm and purposeful until she was certain no one was following her. Then, once the storehouse was out of sight, she took off running. She sped through the street, her lungs searing with exertion until nausea forced her to stop. Adora doubled over and vomited into the gutter.

When her stomach was finally empty, Adora straightened up. She lifted her hand to wipe the sick from her mouth, only to find it covered in blood. Her head spun. All she wanted to do was get home.

Eventually she made it, shuddering with cold and damp and shock. She tapped out the secret pattern and the door creaked open. Rogelio was on sentry duty now, and despite his towering stature, he still looked startled to find Adora standing there, covered in blood. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, pushing past him into the building.

It was quiet inside, and mercifully void of any other people. Adora dashed to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and locked the door behind her. She did a double take whens he caught sight of her reflection — somehow, she looked even worse than she felt.

Adora crammed the tooth into her pocket and peeled off her shirt. She rinsed her clothes with cold water, hoping the blood wouldn’t set, then went to work on herself. She was in the middle of rubbing her face raw when she heard a knock at the door.

“Adora?” Catra’s voice came from the hallway.

For a moment, Adora considered ignoring her. She was a mess—a frantic, teary mess—and she didn’t want Catra to see her this way. But she knew perfectly well there was no such thing as ignoring Catra, so she reached out and unlatched the door.

Catra took that as the invitation it was and opened the door.

“What are you doing? I’ve been wait—” Catra stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes went wide as they raked over Adora, who stood wet and trembling in her pants and bra in the middle of the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

“I, uh…” Adora’s mind churned for a reasonable answer. No, she wasn’t okay, but to say so would feel like admitting defeat.

Catra slipped inside and shut the door behind her. “Adora, whose blood in your hair?”

“Shit, shit…” Adora hissed, wheeling back around to the sink. She yanked the elastic out of her ponytail and proceeded to dunk her head under the tap.

“Adora, what the hell is going on?” Catra asked. Adora felt a soft towel drape over her shoulders. “What happened out there?”

Turning off the tap, Adora pulled the towel over her head and gave her hair a rub. It didn’t seem to matter how much she washed or scrubbed — she still didn’t feel clean. She gave up, and turned to Catra instead.

“The squad beat some shit of some guy tonight. Like, _really_ fucked him up,” Adora said, too ashamed to look Catra in the eyes. “At first they just had me stand guard outside, but then…” she hesitated and ran a shaky hand through her wet hair, “they made me hit him. Hard, with a pipe.”

Catra let out a low whistle. “Damn. So, is that it then? Are you a Force Captain now?”

Adora blinked back at her. “Catra, didn’t you hear what I just said? I had to beat some dude with a _lead pipe_. I think I might have killed him! How are you so calm about this?”

Tipping her head, Catra regarded Adora like a strange animal she’d never seen before. “Adora, you realize the Horde is a _gang_ , right? We’re the bad guys. I’m sure what you had to do was awful but… what did you think was going to happen?”

“I don’t know!” Adora cried, throwing her hands in the air. “I thought they would make me organize a drug run or go undercover or…” She slumped back against the counter and trailed off.

A few tense moments passed between them. The rhythmic dripping of the faucet was the only sound.

Catra cleared her throat. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Adora croaked, dragging her hand down her face. “I thought this was what I wanted, but not…” She looked to Catra, who stared back, her expression was tight. Adora wished she would just tell her everything was going to be alright. “Are you really okay with this? What we’re doing?”

Sighing, Catra perched herself on the counter beside Adora. “Not really. But what choice do we have?”

Adora closed her eyes and let her head rest on Catra’s shoulder. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was. Catra’s hand slid into hers and squeezed it tight.

“Maybe it’s just one of those things that gets easier over time,” Catra whispered.

Adora wasn’t sure if that prospect made her feel better or worse.

That night, with Catra curled into her side, Adora laid awake. She was so tired, but her brain apparently didn’t get the memo. Catra’s words played over and over in Adora’s mind.

_What choice do we have?_

Adora could think of one.

She and Catra weren’t even 10 years old when they got their first mugshot. They had been picked up for shoplifting when they attempted to smuggle some food from a bodega. It had been days since their last meal, and they were still $13 shy of making their quota. Adora had been scared during her first ride in a police car. She wondered if she and Catra were going to jail. She worried what Shadow Weaver would say when she found out.

But that was also the day they met then-Sargeant Angella Brightmoon. She was patient, with a kind smile and a gentle voice — the complete opposite of every adult Adora had met in the Horde. Catra was wary, but Adora liked her.

And, it seemed, Angella liked them too. From that point on, every time the girls landed themselves in the police precinct, Angella made sure she was the officer to handle their case. Though she pretended to be annoyed, Angella ensured Adora and Catra were fed and kept warm and comfortable.

This alone would have been incentive enough for them to get arrested more often, had it not been for the eventual consequences.

Because the fact was, Adora and Catra were minors. By law, they were considered wards of the state, which meant every time the two of them wound up in police custody, Angella was obligated to contact their social worker: Shadow Weaver.

And whenever Shadow Weaver received a call informing her that her charges were back in police custody, well… it never ended well for Adora and Catra.

One day, during yet another routine booking, Angella sat the girls down in her office and closed the door. Adora took Catra’s hand, and together they waited for their punishment. Even at their young ages, they knew all too well that nothing good could last, and Angella had been too good for too long.

Angella sat behind her desk and smiled softly.

“Girls, can I ask you a question?”

“Nope,” Catra answered immediately. “We don’t have to talk to you.”

“Catra!” Adora hissed. She knew that’s what they had been coached to say to the police, but she didn’t like being rude to Angella.

“You’re right, Catra. You don’t have to talk to me,” Angella said, unshakable as always. “How about I talk to _you_ , instead? Would that be alright?”

Adora and Catra exchanged anxious glances.

“Do you know what the police motto is?” Angella pointed to a crest that hung on the wall behind her desk. “It’s ‘To Serve And Protect’. That means it’s my job to make sure you’re protected. If anything is wrong at home—if someone is, say, hurting you, or making you feel unsafe—my colleagues and I will protect you. You know that, right?”

Catra’s tiny fingers burrowed tightly into Adora’s hand. Angella sat back in her chair and waited. In that moment, every part of Adora wanted to break — to tell Angella exactly what was waiting for them once Shadow Weaver got them back to the warehouse.

But she also knew that what was waiting for them could never be as bad as what would happen if they tried to leave — if they tried selling Shadow Weaver out to the police. It didn’t help that the police force was about as corrupt as the Horde, what with a bunch of them being on Hordak’s payroll. Adora knew that the protection Angella was offering could only extend so far. By the end of the day, one of the dirty cops would get word back to Shadow Weaver, and Adora and Catra would be worse off than where they started.

So instead, Adora put on her brightest smile. “Thanks, Officer Angella. We’ll keep that in mind.”

That conversation was years ago, but even as Angella rose through the ranks, she made it clear that the offer still stood. It had been a while since Adora’s last visit to the precinct, but she’d heard from the other street kids that Angella had been promoted to Chief. As she laid there in the dark, listening to Catra’s soft snores, Adora wondered what would happen if she tried to take Angella up on her offer now.

At some point Adora must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew, Lonnie was calling her name.

“Geeze, Adora! Are you dead?” Lonnie pulled the sheets off bed, earning an indignant squeak from Catra. “Get up already!”

“Lonnie, get the fuck out of here!” Catra snapped, hurling her pillow at Lonnie’s head.

“Listen, I don’t give a shit if you stay in bed, but Adora’s got to get up,” Lonnie said. “Shadow Weaver is here and she’s looking for you.”

Adora sat up with a gasp. Her hand flew to her hip — the tooth was still in her pocket.

“Okay, Lonnie. I’m coming. Just give me a sec to get dressed.”

As Lonnie retreated, Adora scrambled off the mattress and dug around for a clean-ish shirt to wear. Catra sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“What’s the big rush?” she groaned.

“Shadow Weaver probably wants to talk about last night,” Adora explained, pulling her hair into a ponytail and she hunted for her boots. That woke Catra up in a hurry.

“Give me your hand, dummy.” Catra unfastened the bracelet from Adora’s wrist and handed it back to her.

“Right, good catch,” Adora said. She crammed the contraband jewelry deep in her pocket and out of sight.

Moments later, the pair scrambled down the rickety metal stairs to the main floor of the warehouse. Shadow Weaver stood by the door in her crisp blazer and pencil skirt, glaring around the room as the other kids worked on their morning chores. It had been years since she’d lost her social worker’s license, but that hadn’t stopped her from dressing the part.

Adora was smoothing the wrinkles from her clothes when Catra gave her a subtle nudge.

“Knock ‘em dead,” Catra whispered.

“Thanks,” Adora smiled.

While Catra hung back, Adora hurried to her mentor’s side.

“Good morning, Shadow Weaver,” she said with a salute.

“Adora,” Shadow Weaver drawled with a brightness that didn’t suit her in the slightest. “I understand you are officially a member of the Horde’s ranks.” She held out her hand expectantly.

“Right,” Adora said. She fished for the tooth.

“I heard everything went according to plan last night,” Shadow Weaver prattled on. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

“Thank you,” Adora replied, smiling sheepishly. “I learned from the best.”

She pulled the tooth from her pocket, trying not to think about the blood that stained the white enamel.

Something metallic clattered at her feet. Shadow Weaver’s eyes dropped and Adora froze.

The world slowed to an agonizing crawl as Shadow Weaver stooped to pick up the source of the sound. It was Adora’s gold bracelet – she must have accidentally pulled it free from her pocket when she received the tooth.

“What is this?” Shadow Weaver demanded. All the false nicety from her voice was gone now. Adora looked down to where Catra’s gift glinted in Shadow Weaver’s hand.

“Oh, it’s uh, a bracelet.”

Shadow Weaver glowered darkly. “I can see that. Where did you get this little trinket?”

“I found it,” Adora lied, her mind racing for a plausible explanation. “It was in one of the purses I stole yesterday.”

Humming thoughtfully, Shadow Weaver turned the bracelet over. “And you thought it would be better on your wrist than in the Horde’s coffers, did you? It looks expen—”

Her gaze landed on the inscription. Adora’s heart sank as Shadow Weaver lifted her eyes to hers — they were swimming with rage. Without warning, Shadow Weaver’s empty hand shot forward and caught Adora’s forearm with a vice-like grip.

“Come with me,” she snapped, wrenching Adora after her as she stormed across the floor to the common area.

Catra was lounging on one of the threadbare sofas, listening to the other kids talk, when she spotted them. When she saw the horrified look on Adora’s face, she scampered to her feet.

“You,” Shadow Weaver growled as she bore down on Catra. She thrust her hand into the air so everyone could see the bracelet dangling from her curled fingers. “Where did you get this?”

“I told you,” Adora tried again, “I found it.”

Shadow Weaver’s face snapped back to her. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you _found_ an expensive piece of jewelry that just so happened to have your best friend’s little catch phrase engraved into it?”

Terrified, Adora’s mouth worked wordlessly. Shadow Weaver gave her a violent shake, getting right into her face.

“Do not lie to me, Adora!” she shouted.

“It was me!” Catra cried, lurching forward protectively. “It was me, I gave it to her.”

That was all Shadow Weaver needed to hear. Releasing Adora’s arm, she stalked up to Catra until she nearly stepped on her toes.

“Where did it come from?” she asked, her words clipped and dangerous.

Catra licked her lips. She held Shadow Weaver’s fiery glare, but she didn’t say anything either. Adora didn’t know what was worse: on one hand, refusing to answer Shadow Weaver was a terrible idea. On the other hand, the truth wasn’t much better.

When it became clear that Catra planned to stay silent, Shadow Weaver stepped back with a sniff.

“Remove your jacket,” she said curtly. Catra pressed her lips into a tight line. She hesitated. Then she did as she was told.

Adora shook her head. “Shadow Weaver, please—”

Shadow Weaver rounded on her like a viper. “Are you going to tell me the truth?”

“I…” Adora’s eyes flicked to Catra, who gave a quick, nearly imperceptible shake of her head.

_Don’t._

So Adora shrank back.

“I didn’t think so,” Shadow Weaver said. “If you’re not going to tell me what I want to know, be quiet.”

She turned to the empty wooden crate that the kids used as a coffee table and set down the bracelet and the expensive purse that hung at her side. From the bag, she pulled a small switchblade and flipped it open. She held out a hand toward Catra.

“Give me your arm.”

Everyone in the room held their breath. All activity stopped as the other kids froze to watch with morbid curiosity. Catra held her head high. She lifted her arm and let Shadow Weaver grab hold of her roughly. Shadow Weaver pressed the blade to the already-scarred skin of Catra’s upper arm.

“Where did you get the bracelet, Catra?” She demanded in an eerily calm voice. She waited a beat. When Catra refused to answer, Shadow Weaver slashed the knife across her skin.

Catra hissed a sharp breath between her gritted teeth. She swallowed hard, and kept her eyes trained across the room. The gathered crowd winced.

Shadow Weaver moved the knife an inch below the first cut. “I asked you a question, Cadet.”

Again, Catra said nothing, and again, Shadow Weaver carved another line.

Adora pressed her hands to her mouth to smother her sobs. She wanted to intercede—to protect her friend—but she knew that would just make things worse.

More silence, another cut. Catra grunted with each slice and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Blood flowed down her arm and dripped onto the concrete floor.

The knife was just above Catra’s elbow now.

“Answer my question, Catra,” Shadow Weaver said. This time, she dragged the knife slowly and pressed it deeper into Catra’s flesh. At last, Catra’s resolve broke, and she cried out.

“I found it!”

Shadow Weaver clicked her tongue. “Wrong answer.”

“Come on, Catra,” Adora pleaded. She couldn’t stand to watch this much longer.

“Fine!” Catra's face was twisted in pain. Sweat beaded at her brow. “I bought it!”

“Fascinating,” Shadow Weaver replied, pressing the blade into the muscle of Catra’s forearm. “And where, pray tell, did you get the money?”

Catra’s breaths were short and shallow as she braced herself for the next cut. Again, Shadow Weaver took her time, and this time Catra sobbed.

“Did you steal from your earnings, Catra?” Shadow Weaver asked, her voice low.

Tears leaked from Catra’s eyes and trailed down her face. She nodded, ever so slightly.

Shadow Weaver pressed the blade harder. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” Catra shouted. “Yes, I stole the money.”

That should have been enough — Shadow Weaver had her answer.

But with Shadow Weaver, _enough_ was never sufficient when it came to making a point. With vicious speed, she took a fistful of Catra’s hair and dragged her over to the crate. She swept it clear with one arm, then shoved Catra down onto it, face first.

Adora lunged forward, throwing herself down on top of Catra. “Shadow Weaver, please stop! It’s my fault! I told her I liked the bracelet and—”

Shadow Weaver didn’t give Adora a chance to finish. She grabbed Adora by the arm and threw her down onto the couch, where she landed in a heap on Lonnie and Kyle’s laps. Panting hard, Shadow Weaver pointed at Rogelio.

“You — bring me the lash,” she snapped. Rogelio leapt to his feet, and she turned her attention to Lonnie and Kyle. “Keep her there with you. Do not let her go.”

Rogelio raced frantically across the warehouse floor and Lonnie and Kyle wrapped their arms around Adora. She could feel them trembling. Catra turned her face to look at Adora.

_It’s okay_ , she mouthed.

But it wasn’t okay — nothing about what was happening was okay.

When Rogelio returned with the lash—a length of thick, flat leather—Shadow Weaver snatched it from his hands and brandished it over her head like the weapon it was.

“Let this be a lesson to you all,” she shouted, her voice carrying across the hushed and cowering crowd. “The Horde will not tolerate treachery. We are your _family_. We provide you with everything you need. Do not disgrace us by taking our generosity for granted. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Shadow Weaver,” the chorus of Cadets replied in unison.

Still bent over the crate, Catra took a breath and clutched the edges so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She knew what was coming — she’d suffered this punishment before. Shadow Weaver tugged up the hem of Catra’d ratty old T-shirt to expose the skin of her back, already striped with long horizontal scars.

“I’m so sorry, Catra,” Adora wept, straining against the hold her friends had on her.

Catra gave her a weak smile, then she closed her eyes.

“Enough,” Shadow Weaver snarled. She brought the lash down with cruel force, and the sound of it splitting Catra’s skin filled the otherwise silent warehouse.

Again and again, Shadow Weaver whipped at Catra’s back. It didn’t take long for Catra’s defiant silence to break. She screamed through the rest of her punishment, sobbing shamelessing after each strike. All the while, Adora wailed and struggled, powerless to save the most important person in her world.

Though it was only minutes, the ordeal seemed to take hours. When Shadow Weaver finally decided she’d made her point, she threw the lash at whichever kid was standing closest. She was panting from exertion, and she took a moment to smooth back her hair and straighten her blazer before turning to the couch.

“You three,” she snapped, gesturing at Rogelio, Lonnie, and Kyle, “get this embarrassment out of my sight.”

As soon as Adora felt her friends relax their grip, she dove forward and reached for Catra’s hand. But before she could reach her, Shadow Weaver snatched Adora’s arm and hauled her back to her feet.

“Come with me. Now.” Shadow Weaver said. She pulled Adora to the far side of the warehouse floor, away from the other cadets. All the while, Adora twisted to look back over her shoulder. She watched miserably as Rogelio and Lonnie helped Catra to her feet and led her gingerly to the stairs. Kyle gathered Catra’s abandoned jacket and scampered after them.

Shadow Weaver whirled Adora around and shoved her backwards into the wall.

“I expected better from you, Adora,” Shadow Weaver snarled. “How could you let something like this happen? Perhaps insisting on your promotion to Force Captain was a mistake.”

“No,” Adora said, even though she was starting to think the same thing. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Sighing, Shadow Weaver’s stance softened ever so slightly. “What did I tell you about that girl, Adora? She is a poor influence. She is distracting you from your potential.”

Adora stood her ground. She lifted her chin and met her mentor’s gaze. “I won’t let anything like this happen again. You have my word.” Her words were firm.

Shadow Weaver laid her hand to Adora’s cheek. It was a gesture that should have been tender and caring, but Adora knew better than that.

“Do not disappoint me like this again,” Shadow Weaver said. She waited until Adora nodded before turning away. “Now, I have business to attend to. You will receive your next assignment tomorrow. Until then, keep your head down.”

Adora waited, her back pressed to the wall, until Shadow Weaver slipped through the warehouse door. As soon as she heard the latch slide shut, she ran across the floor and darted up the stairs two at a time. She found Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio loitering in the hallway outside the dormitories.

“There you are,” Lonnie said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Where is she?” Adora asked. “How is she?”

“She’s in there,” Kyle replied, gesturing to the closed door behind them. He was clutching the first aid kit to his chest. “But she won’t let us anywhere near her.”

“Of course she won’t.” Adora took the first aid kit. Lonnie handed her some towels and Rogelio gave her the bucket of hot water he was holding. “Thanks, guys. I’ll take it from here.”

As Lonnie and Rogelio started down the hall, Kyle hung back.

“Here, Adora,” he whispered as he tucked something into her already-full hands.

It was the bracelet.

“Kyle, how did you—”

“Shadow Weaver knocked in onto the floor with everything else,” he said with a smile. “I noticed it when I grabbed Catra’s jacket. Thought you might want it back.”

Adora swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”

Once Kyle was gone, Adora toed the dormitory door open. The only light in the room drifted through a single window that had been draped with a grimy sheet.

“Catra? It’s me.”

“Leave me alone.” Catra’s voice drifted weakly from the darkness.

Adora shuffled inside anyway and used her hip to bump the door closed. “I will, if that’s what you want. But we’ve got to get you cleaned up first, okay?”

Catra grunted, but she didn’t tell Adora to go fuck herself, so Adora took it as a win. She crossed the room and set the supplies down next to the mattress she and Catra shared. Then she turned on a small lamp and used the light to survey the damage. Catra lay on her stomach, her shirt cast aside in a bloody lump on the floor. She had her face turned toward the wall.

“Just leave the stuff there,” she mumbled. “I’ll do it.”

“Come on, Catra,” Adora begged. “Please let me help.”

A moment of silence stretched between them. Finally, in a tiny, defeated voice, Catra whispered, “Okay.”

Adora went to work, cleaning and bandaging Catra’s many wounds with a gentle hand. Catra didn’t speak, and Adora didn’t push her. When she finished, Adora hauled all the supplies back to where they belonged, then returned to the dorm. She tiptoed across the room and sank down at Catra’s side.

“Can I stay here with you?” she asked quietly. She heard Catra take a shaky breath.

“Sure.”

Adora laid down on her side beside Catra, who still had her face turned away. For a while, they simply lay together without speaking. Then, Adora lifted her hand and ran her fingers softly through Catra’s hair. Catra flinched at the initial touch, but relaxed quickly.

“Is this okay?” Adora asked. “I’ll stop if you want.”

“I don’t mind.”

Finally, just as Adora started to drift off to sleep, Catra turned her head to face her. The whites of her dual-colored eyes were red, the flesh around them swollen from crying. Her soft cheeks were streaked with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Adora whispered.

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” Catra replied, her voice hoarse. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Adora searched Catra’s face in the dim light. “Can I hold you for a little while?”

Catra closed her eyes. “Yes, please.”

So, Adora tugged the sheet up and snuggled in close so Catra didn’t have to move. Catra nuzzled her face into the crook of Adora’s neck, and Adora continued stroking her hair until at last, her best friend fell asleep in her arms.

It was then, in the dark of barracks and with the events of the last 12 hours swirling through her mind, that Adora’s resolve crystalized into a plan. She pressed her face into Catra’s hair and held her close.

“Don’t worry, Catra,” she whispered. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS:  
> \- Adora vomits in a gutter; on-page  
> \- Adora washes blood off herself in the bathroom; on-page  
> \- Shadow Weaver repeatedly cuts Catra's arm in an attempt to make her confess; on-page  
> \- Shadow Weaver whips Catra's back as a form of punishment; on-page


	4. Chapter 4

Chief Angella Brightmoon paced the length of her office with her phone pressed to her ear.

“I understand,” she said. “Thank you, Mermista. Please keep me posted on his condition.”

She hung up with a sigh, and placed the phone gently on her desk. In truth, she wanted to throw it — she wanted to hurl it across the room and watch it shatter against the wall. But an outburst like that wouldn’t help her. It wouldn’t help the precinct she was trying to run, and it certainly wouldn’t help her undercover officer, laid up and barely stable in the hospital’s ICU.

So, instead of throwing her phone, Angella took a breath. She laid her palms against the smooth surface of her desk and dropped her head. Her long hair slid forward, framing her face like a curtain that hid her frustration and exhaustion from the world.

In the privacy of her own mind, Angella felt as though the walls were closing in. Dismantling the most dangerous gang in Etheria was her life’s work. But after years of chasing after the Horde, she felt further away from that goal than she had as a fresh-faced beat cop.

Nothing she did seemed to make a difference. For every raid her officers planned, the gang always seemed to be one step ahead. If she planted an undercover officer within their ranks, the gang inevitably found them out. For every investigation she launched, her witnesses and informants either vanished or wound up dead before she could make any progress. Bringing the Horde down was a noble cause, but the stakes had never been higher. And now, with one of her best undercover officers clinging to life, Chief Angella Brightmoon couldn’t help but wonder if this was all worth it.

She sank into her chair, crushed under the elephantine weight of her mission, and flipped open the folder on her desk. Inside she found the photos of Detective Seahawk’s injuries. He had sustained a brutal beating, and the result was a nightmarish mix of split flesh and fresh blood, deep bruises and missing teeth. Somehow he had survived, and what’s more, he hadn’t blown his cover either. Angella forced herself to stare at the carnage until all of her doubts subsided.

This was the kind of horror that came naturally to the Horde. She knew this — she had witnessed it first hand. The only way to stop it was to put an end to the gang once and for all. Angella couldn’t stop now. So she added Detective Seahawk to her long list of reasons to keep fighting, and closed the folder.

As she slid the folder into her filing cabinet, a knock sounded at Angella’s door.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened to reveal one of her officers, his hulking figure filling the doorframe. He stood with his uniform jacket draped over his forearm.

“Sargeant Lashor,” Angella said, her eyes darting to the clock on the wall. “Are you heading home? I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“I was on my way, ma’am,” the sergeant replied gruffly. “But I ran into these two in the parking lot.” He stepped aside and Angella sighed.

“Thanks, Sarge,” quipped Glimmer, Angella’s only child, as she breezed into the office. “We’ve got it from here.” Glimmer’s best friend, Bow, hurried in behind her. Sergeant Lashor raised an eyebrow at his superior officer, who waved him off.

“Have a lovely evening, Sergeant,” she said. “I’ll see you at the briefing meeting in the morning.”

Once the sergeant took his leave, Angella turned her attention to her daughter. “Glimmer, what are you—”

“How is he, Mom?” Glimmer said, cutting her off. “Is Seahawk going to be okay?”

Angella jerked back with surprise. “How did you know about that?”

By way of answer, Glimmer raised an eyebrow.

 _Of course_ , Angella thought darkly. _My vigilante daughter somehow has better connections than I do_.

“We heard he was beaten pretty badly,” Bow said, shifting anxiously in the corner. “Is he going to make it?”

Sensing there was no point in being secretive, Angella sighed. “I believe so. But he has a long road of recovery ahead of him.”

“Was he made?” Bow asked, referring to Seahawk’s undercover status as a contract courier for the Horde’s illegal drug smuggling operations.

“No, he went off book and tried to destroy one of the Horde’s payloads by setting fire to the ship he was piloting.” Angella shook her head. “Despite the interrogation, he insisted the fire was an accident. They let him live, which makes me think they believe him, but I’m not willing to risk it. Detective Seahawk is out of the field for the foreseeable future.”

Glimmer growled and paced the office, looking much like her mother a few minutes earlier. “I hate this! It feels like no matter what we do, the Horde is always one step ahead of us. There’s got to be a way to take them down!”

Angella got to her feet. “There is no ‘us’ in this equation, Glimmer. You know perfectly well this is police business.”

“But Mom—” Glimmer tried to argue, but her mother cut her off with a stern glare.

“The Horde is dangerous, Glimmer,” Angella said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Glimmer threw her hands up in frustration. “That’s why we should work together on this.”

“We will not work with vigilantes on an official police investigation.” Angella was losing patience. “How many times must we have this conversation?”

Glimmer stormed up to her mother’s desk and slammed her open palms against the surface hard enough to knock over a framed photo. “Would you still be saying no to the help if I wasn’t your daughter?”

Before Angella could snap back, another knock came at the door. She groaned against the headache rising behind her eyes.

“Come in,” she shouted, perhaps a touch more forcefully than she normally would.

This time it was one of the precinct’s newer beat cops who opened the door. They glanced around the room and cleared their throat. “Sorry for interrupting, ma’am. You have a visitor.”

The young constable motioned over their shoulder and Angella’s eyes widened. Seated on a bench down the hallway was a familiar face — one she hadn’t seen in years, but one she thought of every day.

“Adora?” Angella rounded her desk. “What is she in for?”

“She hasn’t been booked for anything, ma’am,” the constable said. “She says she needs to speak with you — she says it’s important.”

Angella nodded. “Send her in.”

Glimmer and Bow exchanged curious glances.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“Glimmer, Bow, I’m afraid I need to ask you both to leave,” Angella said without taking her eyes off the young woman down the hall. The constable was speaking to her, gesturing to Angella’s office. Adora turned her icy blue eyes toward her, and Angella felt her breath hitch. Something felt wrong. “We can continue this conversation when I get home this evening.”

She could tell her diplomacy took Glimmer off guard. It was a peace offering made in exchange for compliance. Angella didn’t want her only daughter around for whatever was about to happen next.

*

Adora stepped into Chief Brightmoon’s office and looked around. It was far more spacious than the last one Adora had been in. But of course it was — Angella had been promoted since Adora’s last involuntary visit to the precinct. But the crest on the wall was the same, with its ‘Serve and Protect’ motto emblazoned in a scrolling banner that stretched across its center. Adora gazed up at it and hoped those words still rang true.

“Please close the door behind you,” Angella said.

It was then that Adora realized they weren’t alone. She turned her head to find two teens staring curiously back at her. One she recognized from the photos Angella kept on her desk. The girl was older now, but her wild pink and purple hair was hard to forget. Hovering at her side was a boy that Adora had never seen before. When he flashed a smile at her, she could tell it was genuine.

Angella made a point of loudly clearing her throat, and the teens jumped into action. They filed past Adora, neither bothering to hide their curiosity as they gaped openly at her. She watched them slip into the hallway and pull the door shut.

“Adora,” Angella said, her voice still as soft and warm as Adora remembered. “It’s been so long. Is it too much to hope that means you’ve been staying out of trouble?”

Adora replied with a bark of laughter, and Angella sighed.

“I figured as much.” She gestured to an empty chair. “Please, sit.”

But there was too much nervous energy thrumming through Adora’s body to let her do that. She folded her arms and shifted. “Thanks, but I’ll stand.”

A tension filled the air as Adora and Chief Brightmoon stared one another down. Angella licked her lips.

“What brings you in, Adora? Are you alright?”

Adora pulled in a shaky breath. Despite having practiced this conversation in her head for hours—first as she lay sleepless with Catra in her arms, and then as she made her way to the precinct, moving carefully so as not to be seen—her mind went blank. Years of conditioning had taught Adora to never be honest with the police. Coming to Angella willingly went against everything Adora knew, and her sense of self preservation was doing everything it could to keep her silent.

But Angella was no stranger to difficult conversations with unwilling participants. She sat on the edge of her desk and waited in patient silence.

Finally, Adora swallowed. She pushed through.

“Serve and Protect,” she said. “That’s your motto, right?”

Angella tipped her head curiously. “It is.”

“You once told me that if I ever needed your help, you’d be there for me. Is that still true?”

At this, Angella got back to her feet. Her expression was impassive, but Adora could tell she had her complete and undivided attention.

“What do you need, Adora?” Angella asked, speaking slowly.

Adora’s reply came as a whisper. “I need out.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Angella said, and Adora could tell she meant it. “But why the change of heart after all this time?”

The memory of Catra in Shadow Weaver’s grip flashed through Adora’s mind. In a split-second, she saw Catra’s bleeding skin and heard her agonized screams. If Adora stood still for too long, she swore she could still feel Catra trembling in her arms.

“I can’t be part of what they’re doing. Not anymore, not after what I…” She paused, took a breath. “Not after what I’ve seen.”

Angella’s gaze narrowed. She searched Adora’s face. “How can I help?”

“The Horde doesn’t just let people leave” Adora said. Her heart was pounding. Every word that spilled from her mouth felt like an unforgivable betrayal to the only world she knew. “Not alive, anyway. The only way I can be free of the Horde is if there is no more Horde, period.”

“Adora,” Angella was breathless. “What are you saying?”

Adora knew the game Angella was playing — Etheria’s police chief was a smart woman, and she knew exactly what Adora was getting at. She just wanted to hear her say it.

“I’m willing to help you take down the Horde,” she said. She watched Angella’s eyes light up, but she cut her off before she could say anything. “But on one condition.”

Angella nodded, and Adora assumed she must have known this was coming. “Go on.”

“No matter what happens, you have to promise me that Catra will be safe. If she ends up arrested or in danger because of this, I walk, and I take everything I know with me.”

Whatever Angella was expecting, the look of surprise that flickered across her face told Adora that this wasn’t it. She could see the police chief considering the offer, no doubt running through the variables in her mind.

“I can help you,” Adora pressed. “I can lead you right to them and you could arrest all of the top players at once. It would be over.”

“I hear what you’re saying, Adora. I really do,” Angella said, raising her hands as if in surrender. “But it’s not that easy. There are a lot of things to consider and protocols to follow if we want to bring these criminals to justice. I want to help you, but we can’t just rush in without a plan.”

Adora bristled. She was irritated — she hadn’t expected to have to sell Angella on this idea.

“Then let’s make a plan” she snapped, feeling desperate. “What do you need?”

“For starters: time,” Angella said. Her gaze was apologetic. “If we’re going to do this, we need to do it right. And we need evidence — something concrete that can be used to build a credible case against the Horde.”

“I’m right here!” Adora shouted. “I can tell you everything you need.”

But Angella shook her head. “Your testimony will be crucial, there’s no denying that. But it would still be your word against the defense in court. If we’re going to dismantle this gang, we need to be able to put the leaders away for good, and to do that we need more than just your word.”

Though Adora didn’t want to admit it, she knew Angella was right. She considered her options.

“Send me undercover,” she said. “I can be your informant.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Adora was angry now. “I know cops do shit like that all the time!”

Angella pinned Adora under a stony gaze. Her soft smile hardened into a scowl. “Adora, one of my top undercover agents was just beaten within an inch of his life. He is a trained professional, and he almost died at the hands of the Horde. I am not willing to put you in that kind of danger.”

This stuck Adora like a punch to the gut. She felt deflated, as though the air had been forced from her lungs. She thought of Seahawk’s bloodied face, his pleading eyes. In an instant, she was back in that boarded up shack, a gore-covered lead pipe heavy in her hands. Shame curdled in the pit of her stomach. She said nothing.

“I can make a push to get you into witness protection,” Angella offered. “We can keep you safe.”

“What about Catra?”

Angella shifted. “Until Catra’s of legal age, the best I can do is get her into the foster system. We can keep her safe, but she can’t go with you.”

Fresh, hot anger surged through Adora.

“Not a fucking chance,” she spat. “You and I both know the system can’t keep her safe. Do you think we would have chosen to live on the streets if it could?” Adora sneered at Chief Brightmoon, torn between disgust and disappointment. “If that’s the best you can do, then forget it. I’ll find my own way to end this.”

She whirled around, turning her back on Angella, who called after her. But Adora was too upset. She felt betrayed and foolish. She was also on the verge of tears, and the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of the chief of police. So she threw open the door and slammed it shut behind her. She stormed down the hall, ignoring the curious glances of the constables who were just settling in for the night shift. With a violent shove, she pushed through the doors and out of the precinct.

Adora was halfway across the parking lot when she heard the doors clatter behind her. She figured Angella was following her, so she didn’t slow down. But when a voice called after her, it wasn’t Angella’s at all.

“Adora, wait up!”

Curious, Adora glanced over her shoulder and found the two teens from earlier scampering after her.

“What do you want?” she snapped, eyeing them warily.

“To help,” the girl from Angella’s photos said. “You want to take down the Horde? Well, so do we.”

Adora glanced back and forth, skeptically taking the pair in. “Were you eavesdropping?”

The boy cringed. “Chief Brightmoon is Glimmer’s mom,” he explained, motioning to his friend. “Eavesdropping makes up, like, half of their communication. I’m Bow, by the way.”

“Riiiight,” Adora folded her arms and took a step back. “And what makes you two think you can help me?”

Glimmer, a girl short in stature but shimmering with a ferocity even Adora could see, drew herself up tall. She lifted her chin. “I understand if you don’t trust us, but I promise we’re on the same side here.” She held out her hand. “If evidence is what my mom needs, we can help you get it.”

Adora looked down at Glimmer’s outstretched hand. Then she turned on her heel and started walking.

“You’re right, I don’t trust you,” she called back over her shoulder. “But I am willing to hear you out. Let’s find somewhere private so you can explain what the hell you’re up to.”


End file.
